


Cocoon

by weinsectshide



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Title from a Catfish and the Bottlemen Song
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25440712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weinsectshide/pseuds/weinsectshide
Summary: Gerard is a twenty something artist who is barely employed by numerous businesses in need of designs for their craft.Frank (although younger) is also twenty something years old, and plays guitar for a band called Pencey Prep.They meet in a strange way, and the lives that ensue are not far off from those in the song Cocoon by Catfish and the Bottlemen.Listen to the song! https://youtu.be/wYgiKUwmw04
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	1. "I know what D.D. means"

**Author's Note:**

> (TW // fight/abuse, blood, drugs, alcohol, vomit)
> 
> I fell straight
> 
> Into your arms
> 
> Like a drunk
> 
> Who's been on it
> 
> All morning
> 
> ***  
> additional info  
> -gerard and ray are 24, mikey is 23, frank is freshly 21  
> -the story takes place over winter 2002-spring/early summer 2003  
> \- I will add tags as I add elements to the story!  
> \- Some chapters have lyrics that relate to them!
> 
> Thank you for reading!!

The moon cascades through the thin window of the club's basement, playing with the technicolor lights that bounce around the dark walls, and revealing the sweaty, dancing, intoxicated bodies that occupied the space. Gerard stares at the same moon and wonders how his brother and friend dragged him into this, as the rave scene was not exactly his taste anymore. Running long fingers through his tangled black hair, he thinks back to earlier that day; moreover, the argument with his brother that ultimately led him to a dark, foul-smelling room, filled with people grinding on each other and doing drugs.

***

"C'mon Gee, it'll be so fun," Gerard's brother, Mikey whined in a relentless attempt to get his brother to party.

"No, I just told you, I don't do that kind of stuff anymore." Gerard bit his lip and sighed, rubbing his eye, letting his hand trail to rub the back of his neck before dropping in his lap.

"You don't even have to drink! You could uh..." Mikey trailed off and sharply inhaled, looking at his lap in thought. His friend Ray, who was lazily sprawled on the worn leather couch, looked up suddenly and finished the sentence for him:

"You could be our D.D.!" Gerard scrunched his nose and furrowed his eyebrows,

"Your D.D.?"

"Designated Driver?" Ray said questioningly, as Gerard certainly knew what 'D.D.' meant.

"I know what D.D. means, dumb-ass," Gerard snapped, causing the curly haired boy to shift uncomfortably, making the black leather he was sat on squeak. "Sorry, I just don't see the point in going to a bar and not drinking or doing anything, you know?"

Mikey was the first to answer, cockily stating: "You could try and finally get a girlfriend," smiling and laughing after he saw his brother blush and look to his feet.

"Yeah, a girlfriend..." Gerard mumbled so quietly that his brother, nor his friend could hear even if they were right next to him, perhaps so silent that he couldn't even hear himself speak. He contemplated for a long while, hearing the ever-going march of time in the form of ticks and tocks from his wall clock, and chewed slowly at the side of his thumbnail. Gerard eventually looked up to Mikey, who was waiting in anticipation for his brother's approval, hopeful eyes slowly but surely drooping to understanding and disappointed eyes. Mikey was starting to push his rickety wooden chair out from the kitchen table when Gerard swiftly grabbed his left arm,

"Let's go. Like you said, it could be fun." Gerard smiled weakly, unsure if his actions were right. He was unsure if he could trust himself in a bar, and the idea that his younger brother and best friend were going to be depending on him, but eventually he pushed the thoughts out of his head, and cleared his throat, "Are you going to get ready or what?" He questioned Mikey, looking at his loose t-shirt that, luckily so, mostly covered the batman boxers that he was sporting. Gerard shuddered as his brother stood up, mildly embarrassed, and ran to his room. He glanced over at Ray and shook his head, earning a full, throaty laugh from Ray. A small voice shouted from the bedroom around the corner, almost a whine,

"Shuuuut uuuup!" Mikey's cry made Ray laugh even harder, and although the torment he was experiencing, Mikey came into view, fully clothed in black from head to toe, spare the cherry red laces woven through the eyelets of his converse. He rolled his eyes at Ray, who was still giggling quietly to himself, his mouth covered by a limp hand, and his arms pulled toward his chest. The boy looked to the two that had just been mocking him, "C'mon, assholes, let's go get wasted! Er- uh... not you Gerard..." Mikey trailed off, casting a sideways glance at his older brother, who, surprisingly enough, was smiling rather than scowling.

The three men left the small, dingy apartment, two ran off to the car, whooping and fist-pumping, and left Gerard to lock the door and walk along the cracked sidewalk alone. He sighed, the curious thought whether or not he was making the right decision nagged at the back of his mind, but he brushed it off as overthinking. He made his way to the driver's side door and stooped to step in, careful not to step on the pack of cigarettes that were laid on the floor. He picked up the cardboard packet, and smacked it against the palm of his hand, then placed one of the rolled tubes between his lips and lit it. He blew smoke out of the window, and started the car, and the trip to the bar Mikey had in mind began.

Gerard drove a worn-out car, which matched his worn-out apartment, clothes, job, phone, and overall lifestyle. He liked the aesthetic of the old thing, as well as the low price tag that read: "1994 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme. Okay Condition. $3,000." The car served its intended purpose just fine, although it was old and mainly owned by cheap drug dealers and people over the age of 50. It was slightly dented, and had been keyed by not one, but two of Mikey's ex-girlfriends, and had the (now scrubbed off) word "ass" spray painted in hot pink across the hood. Nonetheless, Gerard highly enjoyed going on long drives and smoking lots of cigarettes, even though it made him look like an addict trying to find his next hit, but hey, where was the fun in looking normal?

After about ten minutes of nonchalant small talk, the boys reached the bar, which appeared to be nothing more than a gas station, alone and in the dark, and suddenly the uneasy feeling that resonated within Gerard was back. "Mikey?" He asked, his voice unsure and quiet, "Are you sure we're at the right place?"

Ray and Mikey smiled knowingly and nodded, pulling Gerard to the front door of the location that had created an overbearing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. They pushed the boarded-over glass double doors open, revealing an amply lit, more unsettling room with nothing in it except for an old counter and empty drink coolers. Mikey led the other two to the counter and knocked a rhythm on its plastic laminate coating. The room was immaculate, despite it's grim demeanor, and Gerard was thinking about how, maybe, just maybe, he could eat off of the counter and not fear getting a disease. Most bars, let alone underground bars Gerard had been to were absolutely disgusting, and often he didn't even want to order drinks because he thought he would get a dirty glass. This place, though, had sparkling white linoleum, and had the faint scent of lemon bleach. The air felt fresh and clean, and there weren't any signs of rats or spiders anywhere. This old, dimly lit room was cleaner than his apartment, and he absolutely hated to admit it. His thoughts about the cleanliness of the room were interrupted by the click of a door and a soft creak. Gerard jerked his head to his right, and saw a man stepping out from behind a door labelled "Staff Only."

"Identification," his voice was somehow soft, yet gravelly at the same time. He spoke with expert confidence, seemingly from years of experience. He looked almost bored as he held out his hand for the three boys' ID's, and when he took them, he expertly flipped them between his tattooed knuckles to look at them all at the same time. He looked back and forth between the boys and their licenses, and nodded in agreement each time. He smiled and pulled three hot pink wristbands out of his pocket.

Mikey raised a finger to get the man's attention, "Gerard- the one with the black hair... yeah him. He's a non-drinker- uh a designated driver." He stumbled over his words, obviously intimidated by the man's bulky and threatening stature.

"Okay, give me your wrists," he commanded. He put a pink band on Mikey and Rays' right wrists, and then turned to Gerard. He put the third pink slip back into his pocket, and fished his hand into his other pocket. After a second, he produced a lime green band, and a black sharpie, "Both hands."

Gerard complied, holding out both of his hands, palms down. The man put the green band on Gerard's wrist, and uncapped the thick sharpie with his teeth, holding the cap in between his lips as he drew two perfect X's on the back of each of Gerard's hands with expert ease. Gerard looked at the man and mumbled "Thank you," and lowered his wrists.

"You guys are good. You can enter now. Have a good time." The man stepped aside, and let the boys down the dark stairwell at the end of the hall. The smell of booze struck Gerard's nose as he peered down the stairs in disgust. No longer was there lemon scented air, or sparkling white tile. Instead, they were replaced with the smell of sweat and weed, and a stained concrete floor.

***

Gerard pulls himself out of his thoughts, realizing that he was staring far too long at a light, and that his eyes are stinging. He must have had his mouth agape, because his throat is dry and he can't swallow quite right. He stands to get himself a drink, and stretches his legs, knees aching from sitting on the low sofa for such a long time. He builds himself up for walking through the crowd of people, searching for his brother and friend for reassurance. He sees them dancing with a bunch of girls, all appearing slightly intoxicated and having fun. Gerard smiles and shakes his head, slowly walking toward the bar, pushing his way through the dancing bodies. When he gets there, he asks for a coke, and the bartender raises an eyebrow at him, shouting over the music, "Coke? Really?"

Gerard only raises his hands, revealing the mildly smudged black ink on the backs. The girl smiles and nods, pouring him a red cup of soda. He takes a sip and goes to walk back through all the people, to the black velvet love seat he has claimed as his own. As he walks, continually looks down to his feet to assure that he won't slip on spilled beer, or any other stray fluid, for that matter. Gerard begins to think about his bed at home, and how much he misses it. The music thumps in his ears, and he can't tell if it's the bass or his heart. His anxiety is nearly kicked into overdrive, and all he wants to do is get out. Still glancing at the floor, the love seat is in sight, although not everyone is taking as much care as he is to make sure they don't slip.

A back slams into Gerard's chest, and the wind is knocked out of him as he instinctively hooks his arms under the other person's armpits. His drink hits the ground and covers his shoes and lower calves with Coke. He groans and throws his head back to get his hair out of his face, and looks down to the mysterious person he has just caught. The person seems to steady, but then falls limp in Gerard's grip, and he has to bend his knees to brace the impact of the sudden deadweight. He sighs deeply, and gently drags the small person to the sofa he was heading towards. The beer that had caused the drunk stranger to slip is now becoming useful for sliding his heels across the concrete. They make it to the loveseat, and Gerard uses all of his body weight to shift the man into a sitting position on the couch. He finally gets a good look at the stranger's face in the pale moonlight. His artist brain sets to describing him, almost critiquing the man as if he is an expensive painting. His face is angular, and of a fair olive tone, framed by a dark faux hawk with bleached out sides. His contracted pupils are surrounded by a vibrant, glossed over, hazel supernova, with eyelashes that a model would kill for. A silver lip ring is looped through his lower lip, glinting with every separate movement of neon light. Gerard concludes that this strange man is beautiful, and that it's a shame that he's drunk. He sits down next to the man, who is now staring out the window and mumbling the words to a song Gerard doesn't recognize. The man takes a few deep breaths, and in a voice so soft Gerard must read his lips, he says two words to Gerard before stumbling away:

"Thank you."

With that, the mysterious man stumbles into the crowd, and is lost amidst the ravers. Gerard is baffled, as the man had been sitting down for no longer than six minutes before he left. He regrets not trying to catch his name, or a phone number, or anything. All Gerard can do is hope that he sees him later in the evening, if he hasn't already left. He glances down at his phone to check the time, and sighs because it's only 11 o'clock, which means Mikey and Ray probably won't be done for a while. Looking back to the window, he thinks about all the art he could be getting done right now, all of the music he could be writing, and all the sleep he could be getting. Instead, he's sitting in the storage basement of an abandoned gas station, covered in spilled coke, and wishing he was anywhere but here.

Like a ray of hope, literally, Gerard sees two lanky figures stumble towards him. One with big hair, slightly damp with sweat, slurs, "Heeey, Geraaaarrrrrd," he rolls the 'r's in Gerard's name. "Come! Dance!"

"That's not why we're heerrreee Rayyyy!" Gerard's brother giggles and hiccups after lightly hitting his friend on the bicep.

"Oh right. Why are we here?"

"We need to a-"

Gerard interrupts his brother before he can ask to go to some girl's house party, "-No. You're here because I'm taking you home." His brother and best friend whine, complaining that Gerard is a buzzkill, No Fun Nancy, and a killjoy among other things. He grabs each of them by the bicep, and pushes them forward, toward the stairwell to the exit. They barely struggle, which Gerard is very grateful for. They finally make it to the car, only to find a parking ticket under the windshield wiper, to which Gerard curses under his breath. He shoves them into the backseat, "If you puke, you clean it."

A chorus of 'okayyyyy' erupts from Gerard's drunken passengers, and he laughs as they promptly pass out. He gets in the driver's seat and starts the car, pulling out of the parking lot and hoping he can figure out his way home. As he's leaving, he drives past the back of the gas station, which is lit just enough for him to see two large men shoving a smaller man to the ground. Gerard recognizes the man as the highly intoxicated one from the rave, and swerves to pull over. He doesn't have any weapons on him, which terrifies him, and he can't seem to control his body as he gets out of the car and storms toward the three figures.

"Let him go!" he screams with burning fury. When they don't reply, he gets even more angry, "I said: Let. Him. Go." The men look at Gerard and laugh, probably because he is an easy four inches shorter, pale and spindly, and is wearing makeup, which Gerard decides may not be the most intimidating appearance. He growls at the men and clenches his fist, angrily stalking further. One of the men goes for his legs, and the adrenaline kicks in, and it's all over for being civil. Gerard swings and clocks one of the men in the jaw with a solid right hook, causing him to cradle his face and keel to the side. Gerard winces and shakes his hand off, realizing that yes, it's a lot cooler in the movies. The guy that was near the stranger nears Gerard and punches him in the stomach, causing him to double over and fall to his knees on the cracked asphalt. Holding back bile, he looks to the man laying on the ground, noticing the cut on his upper arm from a broken bottle on the ground. Gerard becomes more angry, shoving the man towering over him, swollen knuckles swiftly hitting him in the groin, causing him to collapse, hitting the ground with a whine. Gerard takes the opportunity to stand up, stomp his foot into the other man's groin, and rush to the beautiful man laying on the ground. He helps him to his feet, and slowly leads him to the passenger seat of the car.

Once the man is safely buckled in, Gerard shuts the door and gets into his own seat, speeding away as he sees the men stand up in the rear view mirror. When he feels safe, he slows down, and turns on some music and lights a cigarette to calm his nerves. Through the soft Bowie playing through the speakers, he hears a small voice from beside him. He turns off the sound, and the man speaks again,

"Too fast... gonna... gonna..." Gerard hears a gagging noise followed by a gulp, signalling that the man had thrown up in his mouth and then swallowed it. Gerard sighed and kept his eyes on the road, going slightly over the speed limit so he can get home sooner, before the drunken man actually throws up. He hangs a tight, speedy right, pulling into his apartment complex's parking lot and swerving into a space. He hurriedly gets out of the car, rushing to the passenger door to get the strange man out. As he opens the door, the man starts mumbling, "No... Oh No, No, No..." and with that, he vomits all over the interior of Gerard's car. Gerard pinches the bridge of his nose, not bothered by the vomit, but bothered by the fact he decided to Tokyo drift into his parking space, which is most likely why the man threw up. He starts to help the stranger out of the car, and when he leans in, he sees Mikey and Ray in the back, smiling and leaning on each other. Mikey leans forward and taps the man on the shoulder,

"You gotta clean it up nowwwww~" He teases the man in a sing-song voice, his words slurred and nearly unintelligible. Gerard slaps Mikey's hand gently, saying:

"No, he does not," in a mildly scolding manner. He gets the stranger out of the car and helps him stand up, leaning him against the car door. Gerard then goes to the back seat, and pulls Mikey and Ray out. They are much less drunk than the stranger, so Gerard tells them to hold their own and help each other walk in. Gerard grabs the man's arm, and guides him into the hallway, thankful for having a first floor apartment. As he reaches the door and sticks the key in, he hears Mikey slur something behind him.

Mikey mumbles, "going down," followed by a loud thump. Gerard turns to see him and Ray laying on the ground in a tangled mess. He shakes his head and turns the key in the lock, pushing the door in as he does so. He flips the light switch next to the frame and walks through, dragging the man into the house and laying him out on the leather couch. The thought that the man may be a serial murderer crosses Gerard's mind, but he immediately dismisses it in order to concentrate on Mikey and Ray's predicament. Begrudgingly, Gerard goes out the already open door, activating the motion sensor light so that he can see his brother and friend. They are now fast asleep in a tangle of limbs, and Gerard kneels next to their heads. He shakes their shoulders, whisper shouting:

"Mikes! Ray! Up!," repetitively with gaining volume, eventually reaching just above normal voice level. The lady across the hall turns on her door light as a warning, which Gerard takes, remaining silent as he thinks of what to do. At his wits end, he gives up and takes to dragging the men into the apartment. He starts with Ray, who happened to land on top of Mikey. Gerard grabs both of his arms and slowly trudges through the door of his home. By the time he reaches the kitchen, he is out of breath and his muscles feel as though they are on fire- he doesn't get very much physical activity in. Gerard leans over and puts his hand on his lower back, taking deep breaths so he can slow his heart rate. He begrudgingly exits his house once more to get his brother, who is now curled in a ball on the concrete. Grabbing Mikey's arms and repeating the process once again, Gerard is highly regretting going out earlier. He pulls his brother into the kitchen and rests him atop of Ray.

Gerard closes the door behind him and steps over the men on the floor, slowly making his way to the fridge. Pulling the pitcher of water out of the fridge, he pours himself a glass, taking a long drink before going out to clean his car. On the way out, he opens the closet by the front door to get his bucket of cleaning supplies, and stops at the spigot in the hall to fill the bucket, finally making his way to his car. He manages to get the vomit scraped out of the upholstery, sprinkling a carpet cleaning powder over his passenger seat and calling it a night. He gets into his house, too tired to bother with the boys in his kitchen, and finishes the glass of water before almost crawling back to his bed. Gerard reads his clock that displays 1:25 AM in neon green numbers, before falling into a deep slumber.


	2. "I'm Frank, by the way. Iero."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the sun's up
> 
> And my head's fucked

Soon enough, it is daylight again and Gerard wakes up to the morning light streaming in through his red curtains, a reddish pink glow blanketing the surrounding area like a darkroom. He sits up, rubbing his eyes and squinting yet again at the digital clock on his bedside table, muttering a small 'hmpf,' when he notices that it's only 7 o'clock. Knowing that although he only slept for about six hours, he pushes his heavy comforter to the side and swings his long legs over the edge of the mattress. His feet find the grey slippers lost beside the bed as he reaches over to turn on the lamp next to his alarm clock, swiftly pulling the chain and clicking the bright light on. Gerard stands and stretches, most of his joints emitting loud, satisfying pops, causing him to groan in delight. He yawns and walks to his dresser, not bothering to style his clothes when he opens it and pulls a random shirt off of a hanger and equally as random jeans and boxers out of the draw. 

Gerard walks through his open bedroom door, and down the hall to the bathroom. He grabs a fresh towel from the linen closet just outside the bathroom, and carries on to get his shower, shutting the door behind him and turning the lock. He looks into the mirror with disgust as he sees the eyeliner smeared around his eyes, no longer applied to perfection due to sleeping. Shrugging, he decides to wipe it off in the shower. Gerard turns and pulls back the thick white shower curtain, turning the water on to hot and pulling the tab to activate the shower head. He turns back to the mirror to wait for the water to heat up and begins undressing.

Gerard kicks off his slippers and shivers when his feet meet the cold tile floor, shifting from foot to foot until he's used to the temperature change. He begins to peel off his clothes from the night before, starting with his jeans. He unbuttons the waist, sighing in relief when the denim is finally removed from his legs and he can scratch the angry red marks from the seams. Once he decides that he has scratched and rubbed the indents to his content, he crosses his arms and grabs the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it to the ground. He looks at himself in the mirror with just his boxers on, cringing at the sight of a yellow and purple bruise spreading over his chubby abdomen. He growls at the thought of the fight he engaged in last night as he touches the spot gently and winces from pain. Shaking his gaze from the mirror, he pulls down his boxers and steps into the now scalding shower, more than ready to scrub away all of the left over stench from the nightclub.

Stepping under the water stream, Gerard instantly feels the heat torrent through his body. He shivers and crosses his arms, drawing himself inwards in attempts to make the feeling envelope his being in entirety. The water runs over his head, his mop of black hair shielding his eyes as he looks down at his feet, allowing himself to adjust to the comforting warmth. Once he feels that he's wasting time and precious hot water, he gingerly reaches out to the metal rack that holds the brother's toiletries and grabs his shampoo. He pours what is probably too much of the clear gel into his palm and lathers his hands into his hair, massaging his scalp with the tip of his fingers. The greasiness soon fades away and he leans backwards into the spray, letting the soap run out of his locks and down his body. A bit of soapy water trickles down Gerard's forehead and into his eye, causing him to hiss in pain and slam his palm onto the wall as he vigorously scrubs the soap out with his washcloth. Using the same washcloth and keeping his right eye closed, he seizes the opportunity to wipe the makeup off of his other eye.

Eventually Gerard is able to open both eyes again, so he moves on to conditioning his hair and washing his body. He scrubs his body until the scent of sweat, weed, and beer is gone and the only thing he can smell was his Old Spice body wash. He closes his eyes as the last of the soap rinses off of his body and swirls down the drain. He lingers in the cubicle for a few more minutes, until the steam around him dissipates and the water ran cold.

Gerard quickly shuts off the water and steps out of the shower, grabbing his towel from the counter and wringing his hair out. He pats his body dry before wrapping the fabric around his hips tightly. He gets out his toothbrush and toothpaste from the cabinet, leaning against the edge of the counter with one hand as he brushes away the morning breath. He spits out the minty foam into the sink basin and uses his hands to cup some cool water into his mouth. His stomach rumbles, so he drops the wet towel from his waist, hastily pulling his clothes onto his damp body so that he can make himself some breakfast. Gerard reckons that maybe he should pick out his clothes randomly everyday, as his Iggy Pop shirt and dark skinny jeans looked very nice, but then again it's hard to go wrong with black on black. He quickly decides not to do his makeup and exits his bathroom to go to the kitchen.

"Ugh, are you kidding me?" Gerard asks himself as, much to his dismay, Ray and Mikey are still asleep in a tangle on the kitchen floor. He pinches the bridge of his nose and steps over the two and opens the fridge. Peering inside, he gets out the canister of coffee, creamer, and an apple. Making his way to the counter, he teeters a bit as he steps around the boys' legs and his apple falls, rolling across the floor. He watches it stop against the wall and mutters a quick "Fuck it," and waves it off. Continuing on, he reaches the coffee maker and begins to brew a pot, then reaches into the overhead cabinet and grabs himself a mug. He pours some coffee and then an almost equal amount of french vanilla creamer into the mug, quickly taking a sip of the hot beverage. Mug in hand, he puts the creamer away and glances at the stove clock: 8:30. He'd really hoped that his shower took longer than it had, but apparently he's not very good at wasting time. Gerard sighs and picks up the apple from the floor, shining it on his shirt and taking a bite.

Still nursing his coffee and munching away on his apple, Gerard nudges his brother with his foot, "Wake up," again, "Mikey wake up," and once more, "Michael James Way, wake the fuck up, I know you can hear me, I saw your eyes open."

Mikey sits up and pushes away from Ray, yawning and looking up at Gerard with groggy eyes, "Okay, mom, I'm up. Jeez." Rolling his eyes, he starts to tap Ray's face rapidly to wake him up.

Gerard scoffs and looks at his brother in disbelief, "You're goddamned lucky I'm not mom. You'd be meeting Jesus at this very moment." Mikey laughs softly and Gerard sips his coffee, pointing out the carafe on the counter, "There's coffee made. You can get it yourself." He starts to walk away just as Ray stirs and sits up, immediately grimacing and shielding his eyes from the light.

"Oh man, do you have painkillers? It's like I'm a vampire, the light hurts." Ray pleads and Gerard points to the hall.

"In the bathroom. The medicine cabinet above the sink, the mirror opens," he directs Ray to the medicine. Ray whines and looks at him with puppy dog eyes, and Mikey catches wind and joins him. Sighing and giving in, Gerard walks to the bathroom and fetches a bottle of ibuprofen, tossing it at the pitiful men on the floor. He walks to the kitchen table and takes a seat, happily sipping on his coffee.

Soon enough, Mikey and Ray join him, each with their own coffee cup and slightly less pained looks. Gerard smiles lightly as they sit down across from each other and cheerily asks them, "So, did you both sleep well?"

Mikey groans and rubs his neck, "Dude, it feels like I got in a fight with a brick wall. Everything hurts." Ray nods solemnly,

"I never want to drink again," he says into his mug, his words muffled. Gerard laughs loudly and they both wince.

"You say that now, but I'll bet that next week you both will be heading out to the next hottest spot in Jersey," he smiles and winks, sipping the last of his coffee slowly and setting down the mug. Ray looks at the couch and Gerard follows his gaze to the stranger sleeping face down on the black leather, covered in cuts and bruises and altogether looking wickedly uncomfortable despite being peacefully asleep.

Gerard stands up and walks around the couch to take a good look at the man, confirming that he's still alive and breathing. He nods and starts to walk away when a hand shoots out and grabs his wrist, stopping him in his tracks and pulling him back. Instantly, Gerard feels his face heat up as he locks eyes with the strange man on his couch, but he can't really tell why. Had it really been that long since he's had physical contact? He mentally argues that, to his defense, the stranger is pretty attractive, and hey, at least he didn't get a hard on. Gerard's pulled from his thoughts when the man finally speaks in a lazy drawl,

"Where am I?" He looks around the room in a daze, letting go of Gerard's wrist and sitting up on the couch. He finally lets his eyes rest back onto Gerard, "And who are you," then turns to point at the other two, "and them?"

Gerard rubs the wrist that was suddenly cold from the loss of contact, "U-uh," he starts un-confidently, then clears his throat, "ahem- sorry, I'm Gerard. Gerard Way, and that," he points to Mikey, the man's eyes following his finger, "is my brother Mikey, and his friend Ray. Toro, Ray Toro..." He trails off for a second as the man waves at his friends and turns back to him. "And this," he gestures around him, "is my apartment. You kind of got... jumped? Last night, and I for some reason decided to help you.. And then I didn't know where you lived so I just brought you back to my apartment and hoped you weren't a homicidal maniac as I dumped you onto my couch..?" Gerard looks down at his feet, gnawing on his cheek and realizing how insane he sounds when he explains the situation out loud. He looks back up at the man, who nods thoughtfully before speaking,

"Thank you..." he trails off and looks around again, idly cracking his tattooed knuckles in his lap, "I'm Frank, by the way. Iero. And you were wrong to assume." Frank ends his sentence darkly and looks at Gerard, his eyes clouded. Gerard swallows and looks over to Mikey and Ray, who are just as confused.

"Wrong to assume what...?" Gerard hesitantly asks, stepping back just a bit.

Frank laughs, "That I'm not a homicidal maniac." Gerard's eyes widen and Frank laughs again, this time light and heartily, "I'm just kidding. No serial killer tendencies here." The other three men all laugh cautiously before everyone in the room cracks up. Frank smiles and breathes out, "Oh my god, you should have seen your face... I'm sorry man, you probably saved my life and I just pranked you." Gerard smiles back and nods, and Frank continues, "Seriously, thank you, but what's your address, I gotta get out of here." Gerard rattles off his address to Frank, and Frank pulls out his phone and calls a friend to pick him up. He hangs up and looks to Gerard, "Do you by any chance have Advil or something? My head's fucked."

Mikey speaks, "Head's up," and tosses the bottle to Frank. Frank nods graciously and pours out some pills into his hand, looking at Mikey yet again. Mikey is perplexed for a second but quickly picks up on what he wants and asks, "Coffee?" Once again, Frank nods and Mikey goes to the kitchen, returning about a minute later with a steaming cup. Frank mumbles a thank you and takes the medicine, sighing as he drinks.

The group mostly sits in silence, engaging in awkward small talk until Frank's phone rings. He picks up the call and has a short conversation, then shoves his phone into his pocket. "Jamia- my ride- is here. Um, thank you again, for everything." He and Gerard stand and Gerard begins to walk him to the door. "Oh, do you have a paper and pen?" Frank asks when they reach the kitchen. Gerard nods and hands him a pad of purple sticky notes and a pen. Frank scribbles something and sets down the items on the counter as Gerard opens the front door. He and Frank walk to the parking lot, Frank making his way to a pretty blue Volkswagen Beetle. Gerard is dismayed to see a smiling woman in the driver's seat, excitedly waving at Frank. Frank gets in the car and shuts the door, and the woman pulls out. As they turn, Gerard sees Frank smiling out the window and waving to him. He waves back, then goes back inside.

Once he shuts and locks the door, Gerard ruffles his hair and turns around to see Mikey and Ray at the counter, both reading the note. "What's it say?" He asks, clearly confused.

Mikey pushes up his glasses, turning to his brother and reading aloud, "'(xxx)-xxx-xxxx. Call me, lunch sometime? -Frank,' then there's a smiley face. It might be a winky face, I can't tell. His handwriting royally sucks."

Gerard reaches over and takes the post-it off of the pad, walking to the fridge and sticking it to the door, addressing the note quietly, "Will do," then says out loud to his brother and friend, "Hey, do you guys want to go get some breakfast? Ellie's Diner or something?"

Taken aback at the sudden and surprising offer to actually leave the house, Ray and Mikey glance at each other and then agree in unison.


	3. "So... Coffee?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -This is not a lyric chapter-  
> Thank you to all who are reading this!  
> Right now the chapters are short, but hopefully as the story progresses I'll be able to make them longer :)

To say Frank is anxious would be a severe understatement.

  
The following few days after are spent pacing around his apartment, feeling stupid for leaving his phone number at a near stranger’s place. Frank finds himself jumping from task to task, unable to finish anything. Each room in his apartment has been half cleaned, there’s pages of unfinished songs littering the floor around his bed, and he’s pretty sure that he’s had cereal for 8 meals. The anxious feeling in his stomach keeps him from focusing, because he’s worried that his first small impression on three people will ruin his life forever. He knows it’s not true, that it’s not the end of the world if they don’t like him or if his phone never rings. Frank sort of hopes that Gerard won’t call, or maybe he really, really wants him to; all he knows for certain is that he needs to shower, eat, and finish cleaning. Badly.

  
Little does Frank know, Gerard is feeling the exact same.

  
As Frank is stepping into his shower, Gerard is sliding down the front of his fridge, landing in a sitting position with his phone in one hand and Frank’s phone number in the other. He leans his head back on the white laminate door, closing his eyes and letting out a frustrated groan, “Ugh, why can’t I just do it?” He asks out loud to nobody in particular.

  
“Dude, just make the call already. He left you his number, so obviously he wants you to hit him up,” Mikey shouts from the living room, making Gerard jump due to his unknown presence.

  
“You just scared the shit out of me,” he closes his eyes and continues, “What if it’s a fake number? Or he calls me Gerald, or-” A soft kick to the shin causes him to open one eye, looking up at Mikey, “I need to put a bell on you.”

  
“You need to call Frank,” Mikey raises an eyebrow, eyes downcast on his brother, who at the moment looks particularly pathetic. “You also need to shower, and change out of those gross pajamas,” he clears his throat, “and move out of the way, I need more milk for my cereal.”

  
Gerard shifts his gaze to the bowl in Mikey’s left hand as he rattles the spoon around impatiently. He makes an ‘oh’ sound and crawls on all fours away from his brother, who laughs through his nose and opens the fridge. After standing up and brushing himself off, Gerard takes a deep breath, looking down at the purple paper. He walks to the dining room and seats himself in his usual chair, pushing Mikey’s phone out of the way. At a pace so slow it is almost agonizing, he types in the digits of Frank’s phone number. As he enters the last two, Mikey sits down across from him and gives a thumbs up, burying himself in his own phone and cereal. It takes a long time for Gerard to build up enough courage to press the call button and bring the phone to his ear.

  
Frank is in the middle of his shower concert when he hears his ringtone blasting from the counter. He throws the bar of soap into the air and hastily jumps out of the shower, grabbing his towel to dry off his hands and hair quickly. He forces himself to calm down before answering, clearing his throat and clicking the call button. “Hello?” He says, cringing at how his voice got higher at the end.  
“Hi… is this Frank?” asks a familiar voice from the other line, warbled by the speaker of his phone.

  
“Yeah, yeah that’s me,” he responds, acting unsure in order to seem more natural.

  
“Oh, Hey! This is Gerard!” Gerard says, sounding brighter than the first time he spoke, “Is this a good time?”

“No yeah, this is a gre- this is fine”

  
“Okay cool.. Um, I just wanted to call and make sure you were doing okay...”

  
“Yeah I’m doing fine! You know, a little sore from having the shit beat out of me, but fine.” Frank chuckles as he pokes at a yellowing bruise in the mirror, wincing quickly.

  
“Good! Good… so…” Gerard trails off, seemingly at a loss for words, and Frank can hear him shift on the other end.

“So… Would you maybe want to like, I-I don’t know, go get coffee or something, so that I can thank you?” Frank glances at the clock and reads 9:20, “Or maybe lunch?”

  
“Yeah! I’d like that!”

  
“Cool! Uh how about Mugs on fifth? Maybe like 1 ish?” Frank’s voice cracks when he says ‘one,’ and he scratches the back of his neck and cringes at his own awkwardness.

  
“Sounds good! Um… I guess I’ll see you then!” Gerard sounds a little more than excited when he responds, which relieves Frank to say the least.

  
“Okay, see you then”

  
After Gerard hangs up, Frank sets his phone down on the counter and does a little happy dance. He stops short though, as he realizes that the water is still running. He throws open the curtain and hops back in, the water luckily still warm.

  
A few hours later, at 11 o’clock, Frank is sitting on his couch still wrapped in his towel from earlier. There are Twilight Zone reruns playing on the TV and he just can’t seem to pull himself away from the show, even though he knows that he should get dressed and clean. Once the end credits roll, he forces himself to shut off the television and get up, walking to his bedroom to get dressed. There, he stands in front of his closet with his towel around his ankles as he ponders what he should wear for his meeting with Gerard. Eventually, after pulling every shirt he owns out and then putting it back away, he settles on a Black Flag t-shirt. He throws it over his shoulder and bends down to rifle through his drawers, first getting a pair of old black jeans, then a pair of boxers. He changes into the outfit and quickly realizes that he’ll need a belt with the pants, and grabs his favorite pink one from the shelf beside him. Once he finishes, he steps back and checks himself out on the cracked mirror hanging on the back of the door, deciding that he looks satisfactory.

  
He spends the next hour tidying up around his flat, trying to make it a little more decent by doing dishes and laundry. He inhales deeply and realizes how disgusting the air smells once he has everything picked up, so he opens the windows and sprays some body spray randomly throughout the rooms. This makes it smell more like a locker room, and he flops down onto his couch in defeat. He lays down with his eyes closed for a while, excited about his upcoming lunch. Frank falls asleep pretty fast, and is startled awake by his phone 45 minutes later. He reaches into his pocket and looks at the screen, seeing a text from Gerard’s number that says ‘see u soon! :)’. He smiles and presses on the number and saves it under “Gerard :P,” before looking at the time and shooting off the couch. He rushes to the bathroom and checks his hair and teeth in the mirror, and smells himself to make sure he’s ready. He sprays on some cologne for good measure and then bolts out the door, pulling on his ripped up vans and grabbing his hoodie and keys on the way out. As he’s running down the stairs, he checks his phone and sees that he has 12 minutes to get there. He gets in his car and drives away, worried he’ll be late, but he ends up being 5 minutes early.

  
He parks his car and gets out, smoothing out his clothes and walking inside the small storefront. The bell jingles and from the counter a cheery voice says, “Welcome to Mugs, home of- oh hey Frankie!” Frank looks at the barista, Patrick, and smiles,

  
“Hey, Pat.”

  
“What can I get started for ya? The usual?” Patrick questions, already reaching for a paper cup.

  
“Actually, I’m meeting someone here shortly,” Frank says, poking his lip ring with his tongue. Patrick sets down the cup and smiles warmly,

  
“Cool, cool! Well, you come on up when they get here!” He gives a thumbs up and turns back to grinding coffee beans. Frank makes his way to the corner of the cafe, where there is a tall table with two chairs nestled by the windows. He sits down in the farthest chair so that he can see the door, and starts bouncing his leg in anticipation.

  
Eight minutes pass- he counted, and Gerard busts through the front door, greeting Patrick and looking around. Frank waves and catches Gerard’s attention, quickly taking note of his appearance. His long, black hair is clean and tucked neatly behind his ears, and he’s wearing a black trenchcoat with a nice striped sweater over a collared shirt. Not that Frank was checking him out, but he was also wearing black converse and grey jeans. Gerard smiles and shuffles over to the table, stuffing his hat into his pocket and hanging his coat off of his chair, carefully hooking his messenger bag over top of it. Still smiling he looks down at Frank, who is now out of his seat and says “Hey,” in a tone so warm that it negates the temperature outside.

  
And for some reason, Frank blushes and stammers out a “H-hey,” which causes Gerard to smile more and causes Frank to melt into a puddle from the sudden heat.

  
There’s a long silence before either of them speaks again, their awkward situation eventually interrupted by Gerard, “So… coffee?”

  
And Frank, recovered from his liquid form, nods, “Coffee,” and leads Gerard to the register.

  
It’s not long before they are sitting back at the table that Frank picked out, both sipping from cups full of ‘the best coffee in town,’ as Patrick told an uncertain Gerard, and god he was right. After a minute of them quietly drinking their beverages and picking at the sandwiches they got, Frank decides that he has GOT to break the ice. Clearing his throat, he looks to the man across from him and says what he’s been thinking about for the last ten minutes, “Well, I am way underdressed!”

  
Gerard glances down at himself and then back up at Frank, “Nah don’t worry- I had a meeting to go to just before this.”

  
Finally, a conversation.

  
“A meeting? For what?” Frank asks, leaning forward on his palm.

  
“Oh, I do illustrations for businesses and someone wanted to meet to discuss some album art for one of the bands they manage.”  
“Really? That’s so cool! What band?”

  
“Ah, just a local Jersey band,” Gerard says offhandedly, reaching into his bag and pulling out a packet of information and a cd, sliding them across the table with one hand and drinking with the other, “I haven’t read much of it yet, so I know literally nothing except for the name.”

  
Frank looks at the front of the packet and his eyes widen, but then he quickly straightens his face, sliding the items back, “Pencey Prep… Interesting, like the school from Catcher in the Rye!”  
“Hmm.. I guess I didn’t notice that,” Gerard smiles and nods.

“Ah, it’s my favorite book, so it's hard for me not to pick up on,” Frank says slyly, and Gerard makes an ‘ah’ face, raising his eyebrows. Frank coughs before continuing, “So who’s in it? Do you know?”

  
At this, Gerard hums thoughtfully, picking up the papers, “Mmm… No, I don’t, but I’m certain it’s in here somewhere… let’s see…” He begins flipping pages and skimming the words, and Frank is starting to have a hard time hiding his smile, “Track listing… Inspirations… Lyrics… Aha! Members! Okay, so, Tim Hagevik… drums… John McGuire… bass, backing vocals… Fr- Fr-” Gerard looks up at Frank, who has a huge shit-eating grin on his face. He smiles and looks back at the page, setting down the packet. “Huh, would you look at that. That’s you, right, Frank Iero?”

“The one and only”

  
“Lead vocals and guitar? You play?”

  
Frank holds up his hands and wiggles his calloused fingers, “Guilty.”

  
Gerard nods slowly, thinking for a second before cocking an eyebrow, “Question”

  
“Answer.”

  
“Why not just tell me?”

  
“Just having a little fun,” Frank says, smiling again.

  
“Okay… Follow-up question.”

  
“Follow-up answer.”

  
“Why the fuck is your last name spelled like that?” Gerard shoots a half smile at the now stoic Frank, whose expression causes his smile to fall. Before Gerard can say anything, Frank does, standing from his seat.

  
“I’m leaving.”

  
“Wait, no! I didn’t mean to offend you, I’m sor-” Gerard starts, but before he can finish, Frank sits back down.

  
“Na, Just playing again. You’re good, You’re good..”

  
Everything gets awkwardly silent again as their conversation dies and they are left to munch on their sandwiches and drink their rapidly cooling drinks. Gerard puts away papers and cd and rubs at the ring his cup left on the table. Once again, Frank absolutely cannot stand the silence, so he scrunches his face and asks “What’s your dream car?”

  
Gerard looks surprised, but is only taken aback for a second before he answers, “A red corvette with the license plate ‘KNIVES.’”

  
“Wow, you barely skipped a beat. That’s rad though, I understand why. Okay. Your turn.”

  
“My turn? What?” Gerard asks, confused.

  
“Ask me a question. We’re getting to know each other.” Frank replies as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

  
“Okay.. hmm-” Before Gerard can finish, Frank interrupts.

  
“And not the same question, unless you really must know.”

  
Gerard leans back in his seat, setting down his coffee and steepling his fingers, tapping the tips together softly as he thinks. It takes him a minute before he eventually hits a ‘eureka’ moment, lacing his fingers and resting his chin on his hands and asking: “Have you ever shoplifted, and if so what was the last thing you took?”

“That’s two questions,” Frank points out.

  
“That’s too bad,” Gerard counters with a look of false pity.

  
“Ugh, fine,” Frank looks around, “Well yes I have, but haven't we all?” Gerard shrugs and Frank goes on, “And it was a lighter from the gas station.”

  
Gerard laughs like it was forced out of him, and he covers his mouth, “Are you serious? That’s so lame!!”

  
“Okay, then, Mr. Shoplifting Elitist- what was the last thing you stole?”

  
“You said no asking the same question-”

  
Frank interrupts yet again, “I’ll ask another one, now spill.” He aims an accusing finger at Gerard, who sighs,

“A pack of colored pencils from the hobby store.”

  
“How is that less lame than a lighter?”

  
“It was a large set- and- and they were prismacolors so that shit was expensive!”

  
Frank raises his hands in defense, “Okay, okay.. I get it.. Hmm. What’s your favorite drink?”

=  
“Vanilla Latte with extra foam,” Gerard raises his mug, “Where would you rather be from?”

  
“What do you mean?”

  
“Where would you prefer to be from? You know, not from NJ.”

  
“I wouldn’t want to be from anywhere else. I love NJ.”

  
“Fair enough, I do too. Although California wouldn’t be too bad, you know like all the sunshine and stuff.”

  
“I guess so, but I think I’ll always find my way back home,” Frank sighs wistfully, Hmm… Is Mikey your only sibling?”

  
“Yes, my little brother. Do you have any siblings?”

  
“Na, only child here. It’s nice though, that you two have each other. Now ask me a real question.”

  
Gerard wordlessly mocks him before asking “Have you ever been fired?”

  
“Oh boy, yes. I got fired from that one bakery on 1st!”

  
“Dude no you didn’t, those sweet old ladies never let anyone go. You either committed a crime or are lying.” Gerard looks at Frank as if he’s sprouted another head. He’s never heard of anyone in the history of New Jersey getting fired from Winters Bakery.

  
“I’m not lying I swear!” Frank exclaims, catching the attention of every other patron in the small store. Gerard scoffs and shakes his head, raising his eyebrow,

  
“Then tell me: how did you manage to get fired by Mrs. and Mrs. Winters?”

  
“Well, okay. So I was like 17, and I had worked there for almost a year, so I was far past the newbie stage.”

  
Gerard leans in to listen intently, finishing off his coffee and setting the cup to the side, resting his chin on his palm.

  
“And I came in this one day and I absolutely did not sleep at all, like I was basically a zombie. So you know, the day starts out and all of the morning rush people flood in and even though I was tired I was doing pretty well. That is until this one guy comes in, full monkey suit, talking on a cellphone, nice watch and clean cut. This man was always there and he was always rude and never tipped or anything. So he nods for his usual and i go over to the coffee machine and brew his stupid complicated drink, and then i get his muffin and bagel out of the display case, except we had just run out of banana muffins and the other batch still had 20 minutes until we could put them out. So i politely got his attention and told him this and asked if he would like a different muffin, or to just pass. He was livid and yelled at me for like 5 minutes, completely pissing me off, but I just smiled and nodded and took the piss until he gave up. I asked again if he wanted another muffin, but he shook his head and said just the bagel. So I smiled and took my happy ass over to the counter and slapped his inhuman amount of cream cheese onto the bagel and wrapped it, then put the lid on his coffee and went to hand it to him. He grabbed the coffee and apparently the lid was not secured, so it exploded- Boiling coffee all over the whole front of me and this million dollar man’s sleeves. I yelped and dropped the coffee because I was literally covered in it, and it splashed on his feet. Then he started screaming at me about how his suit was so expensive and how he was already late for work because of my dumb ass. I called him an asshole and he started screaming that I should be fired and he wanted to speak to the manager and blah, blah, blah. So I told one of the winters and she handled the situation and sent me home to change…” Frank trails off, staring into space. Gerard still doesn’t understand; he got away with far worse when he worked there.

  
“I’m still not seeing how you were fired-”

  
“Oh yeah, so then later in the day, I was in the kitchen and I was making raspberry filling, and turned on the blender without the lid and got it everywhere. I was already wearing someone else's apron and I had changed once and I was so frustrated so I went and cleaned myself off and traded with my coworker for the front again. Lo and behold, Mr. Monkey Suit comes in to redeem his coupon for a free lunch, and he sees me and goes OFF. Asks why I’m not fired and is screaming at me, asking for the manager and I fucking had it. I jumped over the counter, and in front of all of the customers and sadly, Lydia winters, punched this guy square in the jaw. Fired on the SPOT.” Frank finishes the story, seemingly focused now. Gerard cannot stop laughing, even though it’s not really funny, and once again the whole cafe is looking at him. He's wiping tears from his eyes, and Frank eventually breaks and laughs too.

  
“I... can’t believe you actually did that.” Gerard gasps out.

  
“Yeah.. Me neither sometimes... I’m sort of out of questions, other than the ones I’d rather learn over time, you know?”

  
“Yeah, I get it,” Gerard checks the clock on his phone and sighs, “Uh, actually, I have to go pick up Mikey from work soon, so I should head out…” He finishes, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

  
Frank hesitates before responding, slightly disappointed, “Oh- Uh, yeah no, no, go ahead, I have to do some things too. It was nice to see you, I’m glad I could thank you for real.”

  
“You don’t need to thank me!” Gerard says, smiling genuinely.

  
“Yeah so.. Uh.. Give me a call or text sometime? Maybe we can do this again?”

  
“Totally! I’ll reach you soon! See you Frank, thank you for coffee.”

  
“No problem.. See you!”

  
Gerard walks out with a smile. Frank stays for a second and watches him leave, turning to the window and waving at him as he gets into his car. Suddenly, a voice from beside Frank speaks, “He’s hot, does he have a brother?”

  
Frank nearly jumps out of his skin, and he turns back to look at the source of the familiar voice, “Wh- Oh Jesus Pete you scared the shit out of me!” Frank dramatically places his hand over his heart. Pete laughs and wipes the table, tucking his towel into his apron pocket.

“Sorry man. You guys really seemed to hit it off! Was it a date?” Pete asks, wiggling his eyebrows at Frank.

  
“No, we were just meeting so I could thank him for the other day. Yes, he has a brother, no I don’t know him well. No, I cannot introduce you.” Frank says, answering Pete’s next question before he can even ask.

  
Pete’s face lights up in realization, “Ohh, so that’s Gerard! He’s way hotter than you described him. And relax, you already know I’m working on somebody.”

  
“You try describing someone from your terrified, hungover memories, also what? Who?” Frank asks in a tone that shows that this was news to him.

  
Pete clicks his tongue, “Classified. You friends now?”

“Yeah, hopefully. I asked him to call again, I didn’t want to be too weird about it.”

  
“Cool, cool. So are you gonna get ready for your shift, or what? Do you have your apron and a work shirt?”

  
“In my car, let me go get it.” Frank stands up and walks away from Pete.

  
“Hurry up, you need to clock in in 5 minutes. I’ll fire you!” Pete threatens Frank lightheartedly, and Frank turns to him, walking backwards.

  
“I need to get you a world’s worst boss coffee mug.”

  
“Maybe it’ll replace one of the thousands you’ve broken.” Pete replies, not looking up from the table he’s wiping down. Frank nods and turns around, running out to his car to get his uniform, sadly turning off his phone and hoping he doesn't miss any calls or texts from Gerard.

  
Meanwhile, Gerard is on his way to pick up Mikey from the comic store that they work at. He’s blasting the Smashing Pumpkins, excited from his lunch with Frank, wondering how soon is too soon to call or text. As he parks his car and turns down his radio, he hopes that their manager, Brian, isn’t in today. If he is, he’ll totally call Gerard in to work the closing shift.

  
And that’s exactly what happens. Mikey takes the car home, and by the time he gets back to pick up Gerard, all thoughts of Frank have escaped his mind. When they arrive home, all that Gerard wants to do is sleep. He walks back to his room and falls face first on his bed, immediately dozing off without even changing his clothes.


	4. "Talk to Petey"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -This is not a lyric chapter-  
> Once again, thank you to all who are reading this!  
> This chapter is a bit longer than the other one! I hope you all enjoy! :)

Gerard is pissed.

His original schedule was magnificent, he was supposed to work Monday through Thursday, and have Friday morning off, which is his favorite rare occurrence. But no, Brian had to be a dick and give Mikey Friday morning off two weeks in a row. Gerard wants to care less though, for $6 an hour it was worth it, but he really needs time to work on his art commissions.

He is sitting on the edge of his bed thinking about this, wrapped in a towel, and wondering if anyone would notice if he moved to New Zealand to live in a cave. He could live off the land and summon bugs in his free time, not a care in the world. Except New Zealand caves don’t have Mikey, or Ray, or adequate lighting; not to mention french fries don’t grow in the wild, and he’s not too keen on bugs. He does go to his desk and quickly jot down that idea for a character description, as a “bug summoner” sounds cool as hell.

Since he’s already standing, he opens his wardrobe to get dressed, pulling on a batman t-shirt and some non-ripped jeans. The dress code at Comix Fix was pretty casual, you just couldn’t wear anything torn or ripped, and Gerard thanked the heavens for that. He’d probably die if he worked at Staples or something, and had to wear an itchy red polo every single day.

Once he’s dressed and has checked himself out in the mirror for too long, Gerard walks out to the kitchen to get himself something to eat, casually flipping off Mikey’s closed door as he passes. He can hear his brother softly snoring inside, and while he’s glad Mikey is getting some rest, he’s also pissed that it’s his second well-rested Friday in a row. He considers quitting for a minute but then realizes how petty that is. Also, he’ll never be able to pay the bills on just commissions and Mikey’s salary, and they’ll have to rely on their parents again.

He gets an apple and a cup of coffee on the way out the door, ready for a long day at work. At least he’ll have Ray there to keep him company. Fridays are the second busiest day for the comic shop, right after Saturday. There is bound to be at least 7 whole customers today, and Gerard won’t be able to survive that without Ray. He gets into his car after trudging his way there, smacking his face down onto the steering wheel, honking the horn. 

Frank has been at work for hours at this point, leaning against the icebox exhaustedly. The cafe just finished a rush, so even though it’s only 11 am, he feels close to passing out.

“Peeeeeete- Peeeeeeeeeete,” he whines, not lifting his head.

“Fraaaaank!” Pete calls back, “What do you want?” Pete rounds the corner from the back room, a smile on his face. He sees Frank and claps a hand on his shoulder, “Sleeping on the job now? I oughta fire you.”

Frank turns his head, only slightly, just enough to see Pete’s lighthearted smile. He closes his eyes again and whines, “I’m dyiiing.”

“Should I call an ambulance?”

“No. Yes. Maybe, I don’t know”

Pete laughs, “Oh quit whining and start working. Please?”

“Please? Are you running a fever? Should  _ I  _ call an ambulance? Oh god,” Frank stands up and smooths out his apron, looking around the shop and lowering his voice, “Is- Is corporate here?”

“Nope, I’m trying out this new thing called ‘being nice to all of my employees,’ how am I doing so far?”

“You’re always nice to Pat and Ry. I’m the only one you’re ever mean to.”

“The emphasis was on ‘all’ in that statement,” Pete reaches up to fix some of Frank’s hair, “See, nice! So why are you dying? Talk to Petey”

Frank cringes at Pete’s nickname for himself, “Don’t ever call yourself ‘Petey’ again, please, for the sake of the universe.” 

“Stop avoiding the question. You’ve been off your game and moping all week.” Pete crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow like a disappointed mother. 

Frank sighs, “Fine. So you know that guy I had lunch with last week, G-”

“Hot Gerard with a secret brother? Yeah.”

“-No comment. Anyways, he still hasn’t contacted me, and I’ve kinda been obsessing over it for this past week. Fuck, I got my band’s practice canceled 3 times in a row. I’m worried that I’ve set him off and I don’t even know why I’m worried about this.”

“Dude, no offense, but you don’t make friends often. You’re excited to have one, and since it doesn’t seem to be working out you’re worried,” Pete explains without a hitch.

“Why? Why do you have to have an actual answer and a voice of reason,” Frank pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Just call him, you have his number, don’t you?”

Frank sighs, “Well, yeah, but-”

“No buts, you’re going on a break and you’re calling him. Set your mind at peace so you can do your job correctly.”

“Fine,” Frank says begrudgingly, “I’m going out back.”

“You have fifteen minutes, go get em!” Pete calls after Frank, who replies with a lighthearted middle finger as he uses his shoulder to push open the back door.

Frank props the heavy door open with a chunk of broken asphalt. He pulls out his pack of cigarettes, placing one between his lips and fumbling with his lighter to spark it. His hands are cold, and he swears to himself over his struggle. Finally, he’s victorious and can take a long drag, putting the lighter back into his pocket and pulling out his phone instead. He flips it open and goes to his contacts, finally exhaling and taking another hit. His finger hovers over the call button when he finds Gerard’s name, and he takes a minute before sighing and biting the bullet. He clicks the green button and puts his phone up to his ear, anxiously smoking as he hears the dial.

Just after Gerard finishes ringing out a customer, his phone rings, startling both him and Ray. The last thing Gerard is expecting at work is a call, and he’s worried that it’s Mikey in need of help. He rushes to the back room and looks at the screen, even more surprised to see “Frank” flashing across the small screen. He takes a sharp inhale and then picks up the call, putting the speaker up to his ear, “H-Hello?”

“Hey, uh, you never called… Sorry, I'm just kinda worried…”

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry! I meant to call you after work on Friday, I’ve just been so busy lately and it slipped my mind…” Gerard scratches the back of his neck, he  _ had  _ meant to call, and he actually  _ had  _ forgotten. Though, part of him also knows that he’s been too nervous to contact Frank.

“Ah!” Frank speaking pulls Gerard out of his thoughts, “Don’t worry about it, I’ve been busy with work and band practices, I just wanted to see if you’re alright…”

“I’m still sorry… Would you maybe like to meet up again? Maybe the same coffee shop again and then we can go to this cool place I know?”

“What cool place?”

“Well,” Gerard says, a mysterious tone in his voice, “That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

Frank laughs, “Sure then… How about 5:30 ish?” He gets off then, and if Gerard is late again it’ll be perfect.

“Sounds great, see you then,” Gerard says, and then hangs up. 

Frank is a bit dumbfounded, he’s convinced himself that Pete is a wizard. Speaking of Pete, and of Pete speaking, Frank hears his name being called from inside the shop.

“Frank! It’s been 15, come on. Pat’s here now! He’s gonna need your help with the lunch rush soon!”

Reluctantly, he turns back around, dropping his cigarette and stomping it out. He kicks the asphalt out of the way and walks back into the warm building, his cheeks flushing from a mixture of the sudden heat and his previous phone call. As he’s walking past the drive-thru window, Pete sees him and holds up a thumb, turning his hand in a silent yes/no gesture. Frank beams and sends back a thumbs up, and Pete mouths ‘nice,’ followed by “I’m so sorry ma’am, could you repeat that?” into the mic.

Five cannot come fast enough for Gerard. He’s sitting at the register in the nearly vacant store, anxiously drumming his fingers on the vinyl countertop. Every few seconds, his eyes dart back to the atomic clock above the door, seriously disappointing himself every time. Ray takes notice of this, “Dude, we probably aren’t gonna have any more customers today, we close in like 20 minutes. You can leave, I’ll cover for you.”

“No offense Ray, but you’ll accidentally tell Mikey I left early in an offhand moment and he will blackmail me into getting him next Friday off too” Gerard turns on the stool to face his friend, who is leaning over the front of the counter and digging through the bowl of business cards they leave out for a raffle.

Ray hums and nods, his curls bouncing with his head, “No offense taken,” he looks to Gerard, “say, why don’t we play our game to pass some time?” Gerard doesn’t even have to answer, Ray is already dumping the cards onto the counter.

They get their card tower to nearly 4 levels, putting a quarter in the bowl with every card added. Stakes are high, they have about 22 cards in the tower which makes the pot worth almost an hour’s pay. Gerard hears the door open, Hayley and Mikey walking in for their shifts. He looks up at the clock before placing his next set of cards and gasps when he sees that it’s 5:15. The tower falls. Gerard screams, “NOOOO!!”

Ray is laughing triumphantly, scooping the quarters into his pocket, “Suck it! I finally won!” Gerard slams his head down on the counter, he’s never lost a round to Ray.

“Yeah, yeah. Try beating Mikey next,” Gerard says from his position of defeat.

“You’ve never even won against Mikey. He’s a wizard.”

“He blows on the cards when you’re not looking. Hardly a wizard,” Gerard sits up and scowls at the thought.

“I do not!” Mikey protests, but it goes unheard.

“Okay, fair. Your brother cheats and you’re a sore loser. A sore loser who is going to be late,” Ray turns to the clock, “by the way.” He looks back to Gerard, “Let’s leave, they’re late so they have counting duty.”

Gerard rushes to the back room and grabs his coat so that he can get to the coffee shop. On the way out he thanks Hayley for picking up Mikey, and she says something about it not being a problem. Gerard can’t remember, he’s too busy trying to not be late again.

Meanwhile at Mugs, Frank is on his last leg. He has avoided looking at the clock for the last hour,

“It makes the time go slower,” he says, tapping his foot impatiently. Patrick casts a sideways glance at Frank,

“Time moves at the same speed no matter what, if I am correct.” He pushes up his glasses with the back of his wrist and returns to washing dishes. Frank busies himself with wiping down the counters and display cases. While he is knelt under the register, the door jingles and he stands to greet the customer.

“Hi welcome to- OW,” he bashes his head on the counter, “-welcome to Mugs, best coffee in town, how may I-” he opens his eyes and sees Gerard standing in front of him. His jaw slacks and he looks at the clock on the register, which reads 5:32.

“Hey Gerard,” he greets warmly and then turns his head to yell back, “Peter! Dearest?”

“What?” calls a voice from the back room.

“Can you clock me out while you’re back there?” Frank asks sweetly, knowing that Pete will do it for him.

“Just shut up and leave, Frank,” Pete calls back, followed by a few beeping sounds, “You’re off the clock now.”

Frank pumps his fist and jumps the counter to stand next to Gerard, “Hi!” 

“Hey,” Gerard replies as Frank takes his apron off and folds it over his arm, “I didn’t know you worked here?”

“Yeah, I had to go into work at 2 last time, so it made sense to have lunch here. Also, you heard me get the employee discount?” 

Gerard feels his face heat up because, yeah, he did. He avoids the half question with his own, “What about Pencey?”

Frank doesn’t seem to mind, “The band doesn’t quite pay the bills, plus I get bored. Also cheap coffee.”

Gerard is satisfied with that answer, “Okay so, do you want to get coffee then leave? We can take my car, or go separate if you’d like?”

“Sounds good. Uh, I’ll drive separate for now, I’ve seen you park,” he cranes his neck to look out the window at Gerard’s car, askew in a space.

“Hey!”

Frank shrugs in response, turning his attention back to the counter, “Hey Pat!” Patrick looks up from the blenders he was rinsing,

“Hey, what can I get you guys?”

“I’ll have a medium pumpkin coffee with sugar, pretty please with sugar and a cherry on top?” Frank requests, making Patrick laugh and nod. He taps the screen a few times before focusing on Gerard,

“And you?”

Frank knows the answer and he considers ordering for Gerard, but he is beaten to the punch, “I’ll have a large vanilla latte with extra foam,” Patrick taps the screen again and Gerard suddenly continues, “Oh- please? Sorry.”

Patrick looks over his glasses at Gerard, “I work in food service, do you really think I get ‘please’ often? It doesn’t bother me. Is that for here or to go?”

Frank pulls out his wallet, “To go!”

Gerard gasps and smacks Frank’s wallet out of his hands. Frank watches it fall, his mouth agape. When it hits the floor, he silently points at it. Gerard brings out his own wallet and pays for their coffee. Patrick tells them that they can go wait at the other counter, and Gerard starts walking away. Frank is still pointing at his wallet.

“C’mon, let’s go wait,” Gerard says, nudging Frank. He doesn’t budge, still just staring and pointing. Gerard sighs, “I’m sorry, I wanted to pay.” Still, nothing. It’s as if Frank is frozen in time, his arm isn’t even wavering. Gerard stoops and picks up the wallet, holding it out the perfectly still man. It’s like magic, Frank becomes unstuck and takes the wallet, turning on his heels and bounding to the pick-up counter. Gerard follows, unsure of what happened. Frank meets him in the middle, both coffees in hand. 

“Sorry,” he says, handing over Gerard’s latte, “You were being a meanie.”

Gerard pokes out his bottom lip, pouting, “I’m sowwy.” Frank pats Gerard’s head,

“All is forgiven. Let’s go!”

They leave the shop, Frank bothering Gerard about where they are going the whole way out. For such a short time walking, he sure says a lot of words, and Gerard doesn’t budge no matter how annoyed he is. After hearing the word ‘where’ for probably the BILLIONTH time, Gerard finally says,

“Frank just get in your car and follow me.”

He doesn’t have to say that twice, as Frank is already in his car and buckled. Gerard gets into his own car, readies himself, and pulls out slowly so that his friend can follow. The drive only takes 15 minutes, but to Frank, it is an eternity of backroads. They’re in the next town over by the time Gerard turns into a parking lot of a small shopping strip. Frank scans the store names on the lit-up sign at the entrance, Subway, Prim and Polished Nails, Dollar Tree, and finally Comix Fix. It’s pretty obvious where they are going, given the choices.

Sure enough, Gerard parks- askew of course, in a space in front of the comic shop, and Frank pulls in beside him, excitedly hopping out of his car. He is basically bouncing when he walks over to Gerard, 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Frank repeats, “Oh my god.”

Gerard laughs, “I didn’t think you’d be that excited!”

“Are you kidding me? There aren’t any comic places in Belleville. I had no idea that this place existed.” 

“Well, come on!” Gerard grabs his wrist and pulls him to the store. The bell jingles, signaling their entrance. Hayley is carrying a huge stack of crates full of graphic novels when they see her. She chirps a happy,

“Welcome to Comix Fix! My name’s Hayley, how may I help you today?” She turns her body to look at the new customers, “Oh, hi Gerard and…?”

Mikey looks from picking at his cuticles, “Hey Gee, Frank,” he says boredly.

“Frank!” Hayley finishes triumphantly. She sets down the crates and crosses the store to greet the two, holding out a hand, “Hi Frank, I’m Hayley!”

Frank shakes her hand, “It’s nice to meet you, Hayley.” Hayley smiles warmly and turns to Gerard, blowing a tuft of orange hair out of her eyes,

“Why are you back? Did Brian make you come in or were you getting Mikes because we don’t get off until 7 and it is,” she pauses and looks above their heads, Frank following her gaze to find a clock, “6:07.”

“We’re here to browse, it’s Frank’s first time here.” Hayley makes an ‘o’ face, nodding,

“I see, well, you know where everything’s at, but Frank,” she glances over at him, “don’t hesitate to ask!”

“So you work here?” Frank asks after Hayley walks away.

“Yeah!”

“Cool!” Frank says before making a beeline for the shelves, Gerard in tow.

They browse together for a while, and Frank won’t stop talking about his favorite comics. Gerard can barely get a word in, but he loves it. He’s glad Frank is enjoying himself, and he’s extra happy they’re getting to know each other more. Frank has a stack of comics weighing down his arms by the time they make it to the register an hour later. Mikey rings him out, critiquing every issue he scans,

“Oh, I hated this one because-” He starts, and Frank clamps his hands over his ears,

“Spoilers!!” He shouts, causing Mikey to put a hand up in defense. Frank removes his hands, and Mikey scans the last few books. He puts them in a paper bag and slides it over the counter. Frank snatches it up and beams like it’s his birthday. Hayley comes around the corner with a lockbox and motions for Mikey to move, which he happily obliges. She opens the register and counts the money quickly, frowning at the amount, 

“Damn, we didn’t do as good as we usually do.” Gerard shrugs,

“We did really well yesterday, though. Probably because we got the X-men shipment early. People kept calling about the new issue, it was nuts.” Hayley clicks her tongue and tilts her head back in understanding, putting the money into the lockbox and carrying it back to the office, Mikey on her heels. They both return with their coats, and Mikey has the store keys in hand.

“Mikey’s locking up today, I gotta go meet my boyfriend for dinner,” Hayley calls over her shoulder, already half out the door, “Don’t get me fired.”

Mikey turns out the lights and locks the door, and the three linger outside for a bit after that, chatting about the evening. They begin to walk to their cars, and Gerard is quiet for a while, but then suddenly asks, “Hey, Frank. Would you want to come to our place after this? We’re gonna hang out with Ray and probably watch some movies.” He can see the face that Mikey makes as he gets in the passenger seat, one that shows Gerard will be getting yelled at in the car, but luckily Frank doesn’t notice. Frank takes a deep breath, his smile faltering,

“No…” Gerard is disheartened, his shoulders dropping from the rejection. His face starts to heat up in embarrassment. This, Frank does take notice of, “Oh! Sorry, I have band practice!” Gerard is a little relieved, but not completely. He was really hoping Frank would say yes. 

“Okay then,” Gerard manages, opening his car door, “I’ll see you some other time.” He starts to sit down and Frank calls out,

“Wait!” Gerard straightens up, looking at him expectantly. Frank continues with a grin, “I’m free tomorrow?” Gerard grins too- as if this is the best news of his life, 

“I’ll hold you to that. Text you later?”

“I’ll be waiting, see ya, Gerard!” He says as he gets into his car.

“Bye Frank!” Gerard watches Frank leave, laughing when he peels out of the parking lot. Mikey makes an impatient noise, and Gerard quickly gets into the car. Right after he buckles, he is punched in the arm. Hard. He yelps in pain and rubs the spot Mikey hit, “Dude!”

Mikey twists to face his brother, “Movie Fridays are  _ sacred. _ ” Gerard is still rubbing his arm,

“I didn’t think you’d mind! Frank is a friend!”

“Well yeah, but we have been doing movie Fridays with just you, me, and Ray for years!” Mikey seems genuinely angry, “I don’t mind, but you didn’t consult the council. Ray has to agree as well. It has to be 100%.”

“Okay, Okay. I’ll ask him next time. I’m sorry,” Gerard apologizes to his brother, “You punch really hard by the way.”

“I’ve used my Judo on you, Gerard. Watch out,” Mikey chops at the air, making dorky little sound effects.

“I think it’s your boney knuckles. Why do you have so much upper body strength?”

“I take ribbon dancing classes at the Y.” Mikey reasons oh-so-casually.

He starts the car and looks over his shoulder to back out, stopping his gaze on Mikey, “You’re a dork. Why do you only say this stuff when nobody is around?”

“Because nobody will ever believe you.”

“You’re right,” Gerard nods, beginning the drive home so that they can marathon shitty horror movies and throw popcorn at the screen.


End file.
